B004D4Y20I EBOK by Lulu Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

Harry, welcome home.’ She bowed her head slightly in Jemima’s direction. ‘Your ladyship.’
    ‘Hello, Teri.’ Jemima coolly stalked past their housekeeper into the front hall. Teri had always hated her. They all did – all of the staff who’d worked here since before she and Harry had married. She knew what they thought of her: that she was a flighty, fluff-headed socialite who cared only about fashion, money and parties. They all worshipped at the shrine of Harry’s mother, the late viscountess, who’d been an angel on the earth, helping the poor, opening hospitals, raising money for the sick, and, above all, had been loyal to Herne to her very last breath.
    Well, they can fuck off, all of them. I’m not changing my ways, especially not for a pack of bolshy servants
.
    Jemima had less than no interest in acting the lady of the manor. She did what she had to do and then scarpered back to London as fast as she could, back to the life she knew and where she felt secure.
    How could she be happy in this huge, draughty, dark house, with a husband who loathed her guts? No way. She remembered one time early in their affair when Harry had brought her to Herne. He’d been showing her round the house when some bell or other had summoned him away. He’d left her in front of a painting of the River Thames at Abingdon and told her to wait there; he’d be right back. She’d lingered for a while in front of the picture, studying every aspect of the old church and the riverside, the swans and the boats. Then she’d started to become wary of the quiet and gloom, and wondered where on earth she was, and where Harry was, and how she would find him again. She began to walk down the corridor but must have missed a turning somewhere and ended up in a dark, narrow little hallway lined with locked doors. The house became suddenly frightening, menacing. She thought of the people who had once lived in this place, the ghosts that perhaps lingered on, and she began to spook herself. Turning back the way she’d come, she started to run along the corridor, breathless and cold, but found herself again somewhere entirely new, somewhere she hadn’t been before.
    ‘Harry! Harry!’ she’d cried, almost sobbing. Where was he? Then she’d burst through a heavy red baize door and appeared on the grand walkway above the great marble staircase. She ran down, relieved to recognise her surroundings. She found Harry, talking away to Guy in the estate office. He always forgot the time once he and Guy got talking about all the business of the day. She’d fallen into his arms and he’d hugged her tightly. Burying her face in his neck, she had at once been comforted by his sweet, musky smell, his rough wool jumper holding the scent of bonfires and pine needles. The fear vanished. She was safe again.
    Now she knew Herne much better. Although there were plenty of rooms she’d never entered and whole wings she’d only wandered round once, she was unlikely to get lost. But she’d never forgotten how threatened she’d felt that day she lost Harry. Whenever she was at Herne, she could never entirely shake that fear away. It was why she couldn’t wait to get back to London.
    She went straight to her bedroom. It was the one room in the house that Harry had allowed her to redecorate. She had been given free rein and had indulged herself with creating a simply gorgeous boudoir, and it was now the only room in the whole castle where she felt comfortable. Her vast white bed dominated the room. The stone walls were freshly replastered and painted a soft chalk white, and the ornate plasterwork on the ceiling had been picked out in black, so that it was dramatically accentuated against the white. Her bedroom was part of the original Elizabethan house with walls six feet deep and arched stone windows with tiny, diamond-shaped panes of glass – beautiful but draughty in winter. Thick oatmeal velvet curtains with an oversized purple damask pattern shut out